Fantasy Well of Wishes | Main IC | [Closed]

[Jet]

The Champion Lodge of Whaleshell Port
8pm | April 11th | Year 587 of the Third Age

​

Modeled after nord longhalls, the lodge stretched forty-nine meters across without equal depth, and made from strong evergreens the appearance was authentic woodgrain — for places two thousand miles north anyway. Covered with decommissioned shields the rustic exterior ranged between vibrant reds and grass greens, rusted orange and baren gunmetal scarred with damage. Every wooden inch was covered below the rounded rooftop which remained clear, where future legends could be honored.

Alone among mounted shields were famous dual broadswords, crossed above the main entrance. Every customer walked below them when coming inside but respects were rarely paid. Most ignored manners, rushing through engraved double doors and toward bartenders, gambling games and bookies who wagered money over combat matches.

"Place your bets, place your bets! Will Scorpion Kaiser continue winning against the Bulldog of Brandy? Can the Bulldog avenge his defeat against the savage southern champion? Don't miss your opportunity and place your bets! Place your bets here!" Advertised an unscrupulous man from the center-floor combat stage, snake-charming customers who debated odds with hushed containment.

But then everything went to shit.

Animated drunks shouted predictions! Confused bookies dashed between wasted morons! Hundreds of wager slips sold and loud debates broke over matchup opinions. Insults were shouted about mothers, hotheads were getting offended, weapons were getting drawn and combat magic buzzed across the room! Anyone watching could see danger mounting among gamblers, and anxious bartenders sighed thinking not again please with flashbacks of traumatic cleanups — but chance was sympathetic today. Once wager forms were collected the atmosphere cooled, and both champions selected wood weapons from an aged barrell beside the stage.

Meanwhile, bargames were played along the western wall. Warriors thumped dartboards with rusty throwing knives. Gamblers drew cards from rigged decks and people wagered dice rolls. Cheating accusations were tossed around but combat wasn't common among swindlers, who preferred counter-playing with complex schemes. Honest players were scarce even among losers, and winners were the best cheaters, nothing more.

Across from scam central stood the famous lodge bar. Running twenty meters she covered the whole eastern wall, staffed by seven overmatched employees. Here people relaxed on stools, working through protein-packed plates and strong drinks without added water. Behind these customers were several long mess tables with matching bench seats, where people swapped fantastic tales over steaming steaks.

Enjoyable chaos and melodic music was everywhere, but some patrons sought more serious endeavors than drunken entertainment. Some were here about "Finding the Wishing Well" — so the advertisement went anyway, and the adventure group was recruiting tonight after combat matches concluded. Given sixty seconds, the mission leader would explain important details to gather members, then create travel plans with experienced bannermen. But would anyone volunteer?

Lacking hope the nervous employer paced around near the combat stage. Lowbrow potato farmers mocked wishing wells these days; among grizzled veterans things would be even worse. The man, named C. Beane on employment postings, knew chances were poor and across the room someone shrouded in darkness watched him sweat, scratching encoded notes across weathered parchment paper.

OOC Note
​

Your characters may enjoy recreation and relaxation, play games of chance and skill, murder food and drinks, throw chairs at each other or argue with local farmers. The recruiting speech begins after the exhibition fight ends, and yes you can place bets!

(Tagging people who might have missed pings)

Arcanist OrWangatan Pik
Huntertabbysandshark3 The Regal Rper

 

[Taigakitt]

Freya Hamrammr ​

Crash! Boom! Shouts filled the husky woman's reddened ears. The scent of booze and meat took over her nose. It was about time Bjorn and Freya had some time for themselves; granted, their travels were for the grandchildren. Their travels brought them to a port town, and she stood just outside, taking in the sounds, scents, and sights. Spring was the perfect time to get started. It wasn't so cold that one couldn't move one's muscles well, but wasn't so hot that one sweats from just existing. At least, that was Freya's perspective.

What better way to know where to go next than a lodge? Grasping Bjorn's hand in hers, Freya smiled over at him, her deep, bright blue eyes sparkling. With that, they strode in, the door being thrown wide open. The events within felt so nostalgic to her from when she was younger- a time when her hair had none of the gray and silver that now streaked her long, blonde hair. A time with less scars. But scars showed her battle prowess. Hell, at her age and being a mercenary? Anyone knowing the work knows that the older a merc was, the more powerful they are. Bjorn and her were no exceptions. They got to retire from being clan chieftains, after all.

Excitement thrumming through her veins, hand-in-hand, they both strode up to the bar. Freya was ready to get a bite to eat and some mead. It would be a good start.

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."​

 

[Taigakitt]

Yo Saiwa​

Golden eyes looked over the edge of a swaying ship, peering down at the unforgiving sea. Yo groaned, arms draped over and hooded head drooped. The salty, cold water splashed her arms. She was leaving the western continent, having hired help to get her across for her safety. The voyage had it's ups and downs. Those ups and downs were precisely the problem. There was nothing left in her stomach at this point.

She didn't regret her decision though. She wasn't about to be the bride of some man she didn't care about. As the ship lurched, she cursed. All of her curses went to the sea as well. It wouldn't be much longer until they landed. Lorrin, her hire, had mentioned at some point that they weren't far off. She couldn't bring herself to look out ahead though. Every time she had tried on this trip, she threw more curses and downs back into the ocean. Briefly, she had thought to remove herself from her edge, but she couldn't bring herself to leave it. There had been shouts by others on the ship about land being ahead. Joy reached her sick face.

As soon as the ship docked, she threw herself off, shaky legs landing on the wooden pier, arms being thrown into the air, "Land!" Her movements caused the hood that covered her head to slip off, revealing long, straight, black hair and a set of black, sleek horns that gently framed her face. She couldn't stay up long though. The ground she now stood on wasn't swaying like the boat, and she had briefly forgotten how to keep her balance. Slipping to her hands and knees, she touched her cheek to the salt-stained pier, gently rubbing, "Oh! Land!"

Once she felt like the world was no longer swaying, she used the ship supplies beside her to support herself so she could stand. The supplies consisted of whatever was in the crate and a net was folded up on top. She started glancing around, looking for Lorrin, just as hunger gripped at her terribly empty stomach. She was ready to give Lorrin the rest of his payment, and maybe ask if he'd like to accompany her to find some food.

 

[EldridSmith]

Bjorn could practically smell the nostalgia as he burst into the bar with his wife Freya. The scene practically identical to their first experience at a tavern where mercenaries were hired. He smiled wide as he tightly held his wife's hand. He ordered a mug of mead for himself and one for Freya with a wide grin. "Say, before we get down to the serious stuff, how about we have a dance like we used to dear?" He says as he downs his mead in swift gulp as the mug was rather small. "I see a competition over there about it dear, how about showing the youngins that we still have it in us." His grin reaching from ear to ear as he lovingly stared at his wife, the fire of competition burning in his eyes just like when he ran the adventuring crew.
Taigakitt

 

[Pik]

Lorrin Yumi

Taigakitt

The west was a bit of a bust for Lorrin, he was mainly there for the rumors of supposing powerful weapons or maybe artifacts that he can bring back to raise fame for his name. But those rumors ended up being false and with that place not being his home country trying to raise any kind of fame there would have been pointless in the long run. At least he found a little bit of work while there a slightly older woman named Yo give him the job of escorting her back to his home country for a large sum of payment ..... in foreign coin. It was rather obvious she was rather naive to the world around her and is defiantly in for a bit of a culture shock here. He only really accepted the job because despite the coin being useless she can recommend his name to any future clients. The ship would eventually doc in whaleshell port and Yo could not have been happier pretty much jumping off the ship in joy. Grabbing there bags Lorrin walks off the ship towards Yo "back too your cheery self are we?" He says handing her, her bag. Lorrin watches as she goes to give him the rest of his payment but he simply holds up one hand and shakes his head. "I was going to mention this earlier but you didn't look like you where in a listing mood but those are worthless here, you can just pay me back in mentioning my name to anyone needing someone famous for a job."​

 

[Taigakitt]

Yo Saiwa
​

Yo heard Lorrin's voice, her demeanor perking right back up. Dusting her salty, crunchy clothes, she nodded. Taking her bag back to herself, she was grateful at least he remembered she had one. Gosh, that would of been embarrassing to forget it. She spoke, matter-of-factually, "I did not like the swaying." she noted that those who were speaking around her had an accent. Although in this land, or at least this town, she was actually the one with it. "Thank you for grabbing my bag for me."

Slipping the bag over her shoulder for easier transportation, she had went to give her payment to Lorrin, fashioned in a cute, little bag. The coin within was forged of metals at least. Her golden eyes pointed a look at his hand that got held up, her brows furrowing on her partially-scaled face. Pursing her lips slightly, she tucked the little bag back where she'd grabbed it from. She beamed at him, not because she got to keep her now-worthless money, but that he just seemed kind. "I will make sure to mention the famous one to anyone who will listen!"

She turned around, facing the bustling town ahead of them. She inhaled, but still only got the scent of salt. "I was going to ask you to go find some food with me, but if my coin doesn't work here, I think I need to go find a small job first." She tilted her head slightly, "Does Whaleshell Port have taverns where I can find a job like back West?" It was time to learn the differences and similarities, now that she wasn't dying on a boat. She'd read a lot, but sometimes text was wrong. "Oh! Or maybe even, do you know where the Well of Wishes could be? That'd be neat to see."

Mentions: Pik ​

 

[OrWangatan]

Pelea Artith​

There was always something magical about the ocean. It expanded for forever, yet every drop of water held a different secret. When it was dark, it became the sky's mirror. It was a wonderful feeling to gaze into the black mirror and navigate based on the star's reflections. Pelea could never bore of the waters, but it still was a great feeling to step onto solid land after months at sea. Pelea's ship, The Remorseful Remedy had stopped at the Whaleshell Port. Their captain had heard rumors of a magical well that grants wishes. Now, because they were from far out, the legend of this Well hadn't quite reached Pelea's hometown, so this was news to her. I mean, a well that grants wishes? Just think about all the cool stuff you could wish for! But they didn't doc at Whaleshell for Pelea. It was the captain's idea. He was a kind man, but often got blinded by greed and his self interests. Last night, he had called Pelea, and her brother Pozou, to his quarters. They were to temporarily depart. They would find the well, and bring back water, for Captain. Unlike the rest of his crew, the siblings looked relatively harmless.

Their farewells were brief, and half hearted. Sure Pelea would miss her crew, but some of them are a little...sketchy. As soon as she stepped foot on land, she gave her wings a long stretch and yawned. She looked over at her brother. "Just think Pozou. A well of wishes? That's amazing! I'll get so many good stories out of this." Her head was already bustling with what the well might look like, the people she might meet, and the monsters she might slay. It was so exciting! "I mean-we could wish for anything! We could finally get mom and dad a real fireplace!"
Mentions: Arcanist

 

[Pik]

Lorrin Yumi

Taigakitt

Lorrin could not help but laugh a little bit "So such fairytales exist in the west as well, no I don't know where the wishing well is, and even if I did I wouldn't be out adventuring like this." He shakes his head in disbelief and looks up her "come on ill get you some food just this once you can also find work form the tavern while your there but don't expect the jobs to be too great." He started walking off expecting her to follow him, having gone through Whaleshell a few times on his adventures he knew where some of the best taverns where to find work would be located and he would eventually stop at the champion lodge. Upon entering he would take a seat at a nearby table and watches the brawl going on, on stage. Soon some would stop by to take his order "Ill take medium-rare steak with a salad please." he looked over at Yo "order whatever just try not to get too expensive."​

 

[Taigakitt]

Freya Hamrammr​

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." ​

Freya stared eagerly at the mug Bjorn had ordered for her. As soon as it had been set down, she swiped it up downing it as quick as she could. It had such a refreshing taste. Licking her lips of the drink still stuck to her lips, she looked at him when he mentioned 'dance.' It had been a good minute, and it might be fun! Who was she kidding, anything was fun with him.

She looked where she figured the dancing was taking place and smiled wide back at her husband. Swiping his hand back in hers, that same fire burned in her eyes. If anyone was capable of feeling the air surrounding people, it probably felt like heat and electricity. "Let's kick some ass. Gracefully." She laughed heartily, as she would lead Bjorn over to where the music was playing.

And they danced.​

The movements were familiar for her, being able to keep up just fine with Bjorn. She was able to figure out what would be best for the situation and move appropriately. There were plenty of claps, and taps, spins and loving gazes.

Mentions: EldridSmith ​

 

[Taigakitt]

Yo Saiwa

Yo's face fell for a moment, "Oh. It's a fairytail? The book I read said it was real." She had a habit of thinking things she read were true, more when it concerned places that weren't her home continent. She quickly followed beside him. "I'm supposed to be the one treating you," she sighed softly.

As they approached a tavern, the noise just kept getting louder, and louder. Yep, seemed like a typical tavern all right. Shifting her weight, she for whatever reason, was worried if someone followed them all the way here from her village. It was highly unlikely though, as she had slipped away during the night. She quickly entered after Lorrin, noting the decorations that lined the walls and how large all of the tables were.

She sat across from him. After his proclamation she could order, she beamed. She wasn't sure what would be a good choice though, so she mirrored him, "Steak, more bloody if you can, is fine for me as well." She didn't ask for the salad though. She really did prefer meat, and figured ordering one thing was cheaper than two.

"I really do appreciate this. I'll make sure to boast my praise of you." She put her chin in her hands, elbows on the table, "Though, it's kind of embarrassing. I was hoping that because the coin is metal, it would have some value."

Mentions: Pik ​

 

[EldridSmith]

Bjorn grinned happily as she took his hand and looked back at him. "For now to the end of our days I will kick ass with you dear." He says with a grin as she leads him over to the music and they begin dancing. He stared lovingly in there eyes as they spun around the dance floor. "You're still as beautiful as the day I met you dear." He says as draws her closer to himself with a wide grin as he bends over as she drops into his arms kissing her before pulling her back up. "We still have it!" He says with hearty and boisterous laughter.
Taigakitt

 

[Arcanist]

Pozou Artith
Mentions: - | Interactions: Pelea ( OrWangatan )​

Pozou couldn't hide the relief that poured into his expression once his talons brushed against cobbled stone. If days upon The Remorseful Remedy had left him hungry to be off it, months had left him famished. The nausea he had been experiencing over the past few days finally seemed to pass, a sudden acquirement of sea sickness, he had deduced to any crew member that seemed concerned or bothered to listened. That earned jibes and laughter from most of them. He cringed at the thought of them. Finally, some respite from that those people, if only for a little while. This was not quite some holiday though, if only, Pozou had thought. Both him and his sister had a mission to conduct, an immensely important one, according to her Captain--sorry, their Captain.

He spoke of a great wonder, rumours of a magical well that granted wishes. Preposterous, of course, simply a tale to tell a child who refused to rest his weary head, right? Pozou, though, knowing better than to speak against their Captain, especially when faced with miles of water, zipped his mouth shut on the matter. Pelea, caught in a childlike wonder at the chance of finding a well, no less one that could grant wishes, immediately accepted the Captain's demands. Pozou had just nodded, resigning himself to being caught up in these orders too. It was either that, or stay on the damned watery coffin. No, he would follow along with his sister, for her sake and to keep a watchful eye.

Plus, he would be lying if he hadn't his own enquires about it.

Pozou watched the denizens of Whaleshell Port go about their business; vendors behinds stalls, enticing those to browse delectable wares of theirs, sturdy, well-built men carrying beams, no doubt for construction, and the odd rude person to shove past the Quetzola. He looked back to Pelea, whom whilst stretching, was already brimming with thoughts over this well of wishes. Pozou couldn't help but smile a little. As much as he thought a well of wishes was too good to be true, indulging in his sister's fantasy did no harm. "A fireplace? Think bigger, Pelea. A mansion. No, a mansion and acres of land. How much do you think an island costs, sister?" He grinned, finding himself indulging in this fantasy a little too much. He shook his head, deciding to bring himself back, to think logically. He couldn't help but think of their parents in the moment. He missed them, dearly. Oh, to see their faces...and then their faces after discovering their children took on a life of piracy. Both willingly and...well, without much choice in the matter. "But...that all depends on finding it. If it even exists."

The Quetzola's head turned, watching some fishermen reel in a net flopping full of fish. He could feel his nausea returning at the thought of looking at fish again, and yet, his stomach rumbled.Pozou felt his hands rush to it as if to silence it, before sighing. "But first...something to eat. Can't go searching for a well on an empty stomach." Pozou smiled, before he gestured for his sister to follow him in his search for a tavern.

The shouts and rumbling inside a nearby building was a fair sign that it was the place they were looking for. Pozou was the first to step in, the sounds perforating his ears as if he had been behind a glass encasement. He moved over to a table which seemed to be free, gestured Pelea to join him, and slumped down onto the stool, sighing. "I wonder what they have here...and please...don't suggest fish. Chowing down on tuna again...bleugh..." He stuck out his tongue with a grimace, his nose wrigging at the very thought of the slippery things being slapped onto his plate.

 

[Pik]

Lorrin Yumi

Taigakitt
"You might be able to trade them into a blacksmith, I'm sure they are always looking for metal to work with. Can't promise you'll get much for it though." It didn't take long for there food too gets there probably because of the low effort it would take too make. He took a bite of his salad and watch the brawls and apparently dancing that was happening around the bar. "So I didn't ask you about why you wanted to come here, judging by your lack of knowledge and being completely unprepared for the change of scenery. I'm going to assume this was a split-second decision."​

 

[RedLeftHand36]

Sir Erik the Tall

Familiar Situations

Five days. Five whole, entire days, without so much as a proper quart of ale. He supposed it was bearable, considering his company, or, rather, lack thereof. Drinking was, more often than not, a means of tuning out the obnoxious and constant noise produced by the common wretch. But even among the uncomfortable noise of a crowd, the smell of brine and ocean meats were particularly welcoming. He always was fond of the sea. He remembered how much he'd travel to the coast across from the Stone Shores when he was younger. Every chance he got, he'd go there. But it had been a while since his last visit. The ocean mist sprayed upon his face through his visor as he trudged along the pier, a kindness for his weary travels, and the cool temperatures offered solace in his heavy armor. Such a climate was a far throw from the unpleasant days with nothing but sun to cook him alive. He could certainly appreciate that he didn't end up in the hellscape of the deep south-east.

Dockside heralded no unusual circumstances as Erik took a moment to purchase some seafood. Fish was fine and all, but the true bounty of the sea laid with the boneless sorts of creatures that inhabited the ocean. He learned from his various encounters with pirates that it was the more tentacle-adorned beasties that offered the best meat. So it would be no surprise he now carried a leather sack filled with octopus cuts in one of his satchels. He had also taken the time to buy various jars filled with roe and shellfish. When he had decided he had purchased enough food for a few more days worth of travel, he brought his goods back to his trusty warhorse Vortigern over at a stable not too far from the docks. The black steed had been at his side for nearly a decade. Erik remembered seeing the stallion for the first time: Back in his days at the Marsh Gates, Vortigern was nothing more than a work horse, meant for pulling carts and tilling fields. Erik, who had always been of supernaturally large size, had nearly given up looking for a horse capable of carrying his weight, including in his armor. It was nothing short of a miracle for a freakishly large and strong man to find an appropriately freakish horse. The oversized man spent a moment packing things into the cooler of his saddle, a particularly large pouch lined with soft sheets of tin metal and filled with dry ice. Speaking of which, Erik made a mental note to find an alchemist to buy more of the stuff from. It was nice that the stuff didn't melt into liquid, instead merely dissipating into vapor as time went by.

After a small modicum of time finishing up putting things away and tending to his horse, Erik ventured back into the port, deciding it was time for him to find a place to drink. It wasn't too long before Erik found the Champion lodge. It had been quite a while since he had been to one of these. The towering knight slowly entered, ducking through the wooden door that led into the great hall. The warmth of hearth and alcoholics was certainly familiar, but he despised it. He momentarily considered finding another place, but he supposed he might as well save himself the trouble, and simply deal with the cacophonous festivities. He hated the noise above all, but he supposed that was what drink was for. The steel-clad juggernaut slowly trudged towards the eastern wall for his drink, but a piece of paper under his behemoth foot took his attention. "The Wishing Well." Imagine that. He supposed if Idris had told him to keep an eye out for these opportunities, there must be some strange merit to it. All legends have their roots in reality, after all. But for something that seemed little more than just a child's fairy tale, it was no less strange. He examined the paper closer, after picking it up. How convenient. The advertisement specified the man behind it could be met at this very lodge. Crumpling the paper and tossing it aside, Erik took a single step before a voice took his attention once more.

"I'll be fucking damned. If it ain't big, fat Erik the Tall."

The owner of the voice was a tall and lean man. Young, blonde, handsome. You could practically see the sense of ego leaking from his eyes. The man wore light armor, and in one hand, gripped a spear resting against the table the man sat at. Just another face, really. Nothing about the man screamed familiar individual to Erik. He'd met his fair share of these kinds of people. A living cliche, really. It was easy to forget these people were real, but they certainly existed. Erik merely paused his walk to the bar, glaring at the fellow that interrupted him with unseen eyes behind the visor of his helm.

"Remember me? Stone's Throw? You butchered the man I was hired to protect. You cost me a great fucking fortune!"

The man next to the blonde, a red-haired fellow with significantly more muscle on him, put his hand on the blonde's shoulder.

"Lotty, shut the fuck up! I don't want Erin to have to try and save yer arse after you almost get yerself killed!"

The blonde man shrugged off his companion and slowly stood to his feet as Erik merely continued glaring. This man, Lotty, he supposed his name was, took a few steps closer.

"I want to see you outside, you armored freak. A duel. Right and proper. I want to see you fall flat on your ass, and then we'll see how tall you ar-"

Too much noise. And interrupting his needs, no less. Erik took a mighty hand, gloved in thick leather, plated with steel over the forearm, and above the wrist to the knuckle, and suddenly took the blonde by the jaw, lifting the smaller man into the air with a single arm. Erik simply exhaled sharply with irritation before slamming his free hand into the blonde's face, a spray of blood and teeth pouring from his mouth and nose. The red-haired man simply looked on with fear as the blonde one was dropped to the ground, momentarily gagging on his own blood and spitting out the last few teeth that were knocked from their place, before collapsing, still breathing, albeit quite heavily. A brief silence and stillness stood within that small area of the lodge before Erik simply continued towards the bar, the red-head carrying his blonde companion out of the lodge for medical attention as the tall knight ventured forth. Even among the foul stares and unkind muttering that followed the situation, he simply wanted his drink. And as he stood in front of the bar in between empty stool, he placed a leather pouch of coin, and simply pointed towards the closest pitcher of ale. The money made it clear the man wanted more than a single one, and thus Erik continued his all too familiar day at a lodge.

 

[Taigakitt]

Freya Hamrammr​

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."​

Their dance was so much fun. It was an amazing way to kick off their new adventure together, and set the tone perfectly. Her face flushed lightly at his words. Despite their age, they still had amazing figures. In fact, not a single sweat was broken during the dance. Age hadn't slowed them down one bit. "You've gotten stronger since then, Papa Bear." Strength was a trait she admired. Of course, she had kissed back. What kind of wife would she be if she didn't?

Once the dance had finished, Freya's husky laugh joined his. "I think we should do this more often." She had been too focused on Bjorn to worry about the events surrounding them. To move off the floor, she led Bjorn back to the bar, leaning her back against the wood. She could feel the arm of her axe press against her as she did.


"We saw the paper earlier about the Wishing Well. What do you think?"

Mentions: EldridSmith

​

 

[OrWangatan]

Pelea Artith​

"Food. Right." Pelea had hardly noticed how hungry she was, which was odd for her. Hunger was almost always the first thing on her mind. She shrugged it off with a thoughtless sigh and turned to the long hall of shops and stalls. This town was so unlike Salt Rock. The smell of salted meat stained the air and made Pelea salivate. "Well," she patted her brother on the shoulder, "we're not gonna find a place to eat just standing around here. Let's go!" Without giving her brother time to object (which he probably would have) Pelea started off, into the town.

Pelea had found that following her nose was a good enough way to find a place to eat. I mean-sure sometimes it lead her to a harbor where the only thing available was seaweed sprinkled with every spice in existence, but other times I lead to much nicer places. For example, The Champion Lodge. It took her a few seconds to stare at it and take it all in. Candlelight illuminated the wooden frame from within, as she could hear merry bickering coming from within. "Pozou this place is perfect!" Her smile was wide and her eyes practically twinkled. And like she always did, entered without his second opinion.

The interior was even better. Friends chatting over ale, and gamblers shouting in the corner. Wandering in deeper, she spotted an empty table. "I'm gonna go get us some food. I'l make sure they cook your fish just the way you like it," she chirped, but it was met with nothing but silence. Turning her head, she met a crowd of strangers. "...tar..."

Pelea immediately turned and started squeezing her way past the patrons, muttering apologies the whole time. Pozou couldn't be that hard to find, right? I mean-he was probably the only other harpy in the entire port. Thankfully, it only took a few minutes before she saw his brown mop of a hairdo. She did think about approaching nicely, but decided no. He was the slow one that was always getting lost! Pelea slowly crept up behind him... and gave a "BAH!!" right behind his head.

Mentions: Arcanist

 

[Taigakitt]

Yo Saiwa

Yo nodded in acknowledgement of the blacksmith mention. It wasn't a bad idea. While she was naive, she wasn't stupid (all the time). It might be good to see what the difference would be before making that decision first. Maybe after their time at this lodge, she should go to some surveying of the town, see what else she could learn? She fiddled with the necklace that sat around her neck while she was thinking what her next steps would be.

Food being sat down in front of her brought her back to attention. Right. First, eat food and learn what she can from Lorrin. She appreciated him, after all. The seat they had, she could see a lot of what was going on. There was dancing, and those involved seem like they were having a good time. Someone yelling and approaching a rather tall man got his ass kicked. She flinched, mid-bite, when she saw a fist fly through the blonde person's face. She made a mental note not to pick fights here. Not that she ever should- she had no combat experience and only new a few things with daggers. She kept one strapped to her thigh, just in case.

Lorrin's question brought her attention back to him. Her face fell slightly, wondering how much she should reveal. He was a man of coin, and if someone in her family or the other found out, and paid for information, she wondered if that would be her downfall. Then again, he already knew she was here. After all, she asked him to help her.

Finishing the bite she had, she nodded, "I couldn't prepare very much for this. I did what I had to do and leave. I was going to be forced into a marriage I wanted no part of." She probably could have traveled across the west, but felt going across the sea was even better. It put more distance between them. Plus, the fairy tale was one of the reasons she chose Centos. "It's probably selfish of me to want what I want, without putting my family first... But, I didn't want to feel imprisoned in my own home." A twinge of sadness crept into her features.

Mentions: Pik ​

 

[Jet]

Leóne Locke


​

Sitting across from Leóne, the decrepit mage laughed with amused dementia. He looked stupid around young gamblers, with cataract covered eyes and ragged clothing he seemed worth scamming based on appearance alone — marked seven minutes ago by the rogue who thought Elders are easy pickings, the experts would agree! However, after seven hands the rogue wanted expert heads decorating spikes. Gramps was clearing bank accounts and subtle arcane manipulation was responsible. Honest money was burning away from cheating and violent revenge scenarios played through the younger rogue's mind. Maybe the nearby hearth could accidentally immolate the mage with some simple element bending? Anyone could manipulate open flames, proof wouldn't come easy.

But cooler thoughts prevailed.

Leóne knew card games were scamming games so how could he complain? Bemoaning cheats during poker was like complaining about sex noises inside brothels. Leóne could begrudgingly understand and process losing as an absolutely mature human being — but then old fucker opened his yellow mouth and mumbled "Lost your luck? Think I found it because my streak never ends! Maybe you should find new hobbies boy?"

How insufferable...

Leóne suppressed another bloody wave. Neck stabbings sounded fantastic, but most criminals were caught around well policed southern ports — Better to leave without money than freedom after assaulting old men, and Leóne's only escape from criminal escalation was accepting losses and leaving with an extremely sarcastic "Well played! Seems my luck does need work around someone so....unusually blessed"

Poison dripped from the words. The old man laughed happy agreements. Locke glared down after standing with menacing intentions, and grandpa scratched his beard — Leóne was being completely ignored and he was pissed. Leaning forward the rogue stared through the old scammer's soul and around the table others were becoming nervous. Reading fearful looks Locke gripped blade handles, halfway withdrawing knives before whispering "I hope you're as blessed when leaving here. Would be unfortunate if someone stole your winnings" but laughed agreements came from the old mage once again!

Was the man senile? Who was this fucking guy? Leóne wanted answers but spontaneous combat interrupted curiosities. Lodge members were shouting and swarming everywhere over some unsanctioned barside skirmish. Meanwhile the ancient mage began snoring sound-asleep. Nothing made sense about the scammer and completely done with antics, Leóne departed despite hearing "one more game" several times. He was done losing money among thieves, bolting away to double down on drinks.

Passing through random groups and armored mercenaries, veteran sailors and local potato picking farmers, Leóne plopped down over an empty barstool. Meanwhile, four guards escorted the complaining blonde who must've missed lodge rule #2 which read: Starting fights is strictly prohibited, but defending yourself is encouraged and supported.

Launched from main entrance, the rulebreaker earned a chorus of people chanting "Goodnight our boy goodnight dear lad - a shame about those teeth you had!" and playing along were several lute-strumming bards adding sweet string music. Meshing together the chorus cast joyous energy around the room. Leóne loved every second.

This was prime lodge scenes and he enjoyed the culture. Most patrons were proud and strong drinkers who loved a good chant. These wonderul morons understood real struggles and small problems stayed small. Ridiculous drama was settled with swords, and people lacked pretensions found inside uptown lounges. Here one could watch champions battle, power through cheap beers, party with peasants and swap words with beautiful women.... without worrying about noble husbands sending assassins. After spending eleven months among Bedouin Tribes he could use some physical enjoyment, especially now before questing with whatever rugged group the mission leader would assemble.

Speaking of possible comrades, over buzzing crowds Leóne heard "About the Wishing Well, what do you think" from nearby along the bar. There stood two massive northerners who looked married perhaps? Maybe dating? Leóne was curious and not about their relationship status. Locke wanted to know why they discussed his future mission and turning towards them he drank from his huge beer glass before mentioning "Wishing Well? You here about that mission too? My hopes are higher than most of these southern morons, woundn't be here without my own evidence about that well... Can't argue that it sounds like bullshit though, but we get paid no matter what happens so who cares eh?"

EldridSmith Taigakitt

 

[EldridSmith]

Bjorn chuckles at her response after their little dance. "You have too mama bear. And we should do this more often, haha!" He says before ordering them both another round of drinks, except of proper size this time. "Hmm, either it's fake like we think and we have a story for the grandkids, or it's real and we can make sure the family is set for life. Either way it sounds fun." He says with a smile as he picks up his drink and passes one to Freya. He then turns to the stranger who approached. He frowned at the fact he listened in to their conversation. "Youngsters aught not be dropping eves on their elders." He gruffly replies in his grizzled voice before softening slightly. "Aye we're here for the mission. Southerners generally lack a sense of reckless adventure and thrill seeking, they're too worried about safety to have a good time. Evidence? Who needs it when there's a story to be had!!"He says before laughing boisterously. The lineage of the north were the stories written down and recorded for each generation, the stories they prided themselves in and of the accomplishments of their ancestors. Also the competitive spirit to outdo their ancestors and leave legends of their own. "Even if we don't get to buy toys for the grandkids we'll be happy to have had an adventure and a story to tell them." He says with a smile as his hand rests on Freya's hand he looks her in the eyes. "Ah, I'm Bjorn and this is my lovely wife Freya. What's your name stranger?" He says as he looks back to Leone.
Jet Taigakitt

 

[Arcanist]

Pozou Artith
Mentions: Pelea ( OrWangatan ) | Interactions: Erik ( RedLeftHand36 )​

Pozou, in his ramblings and insistings about fish, no less dreaded tuna, had failed to notice he had lost his sister, and running his mouth off to an empty space across the table. He had been rummaging through that bag pack of his, where he carried his money, a map, and other essentials needed for their journey, and had just assumed his sister was across from him. So, when he looked up, he was met with genuine surprise, and then a sense of warm dread rose up past his neck, right up to his forehead.

She was gone. Again. Oh, heavens, where could she have gone? Even now to this day, Pelea disappearing or running off on her own gave Pozou such a fright. He could feel his tail feathers bristle at the severity of the situation. Slinging his belongings onto his back again, he retreated a little ways from the table he had been seated at. Standing on his talons didn't even help in his search for someone with the winged likeness of his sister. Damn it all! Why didn't he keep a better eye on her? This was exactly like that night she ran off and disappeared. Pozou leaves to do a job for that dastardly old, ailing man in the village, and he returns home to find Pelea having upped and vanished! His search for her that night was fruitless. What if it was the same here? What if she already found someone wanting to go on this foresakened quest for some magical well that didn't exist, and he was left stranded here with no way to defend himself and--!

The sudden noise, mixed in with gutteral caw of a typical Quetzola, caused him to flinch and winged arms jerked out with a sudden, "Gah!" He knew rightly who had given him a further fright on top of his original fear. He would have turned to scold his younger sister, had he not felt his wings jerk against another body at the bar. Pozou turned to body he had hit, and the longer he took to look up, the more the same familiar sense of warm dread came over his body. He strained his neck up at the man, no, a mountain, helmet covering his face. He felt as if his stomach was going to drop out of him, but regardless, he mustered his best smile, although sheepish, and regretting his sudden wing jerk.

"O-oh, terribly sorry, s-sir..." Pozou laughed, the nerves shaking in his tone, wringing his hands together. "I-I didn't even see you there! I'm awfully clumsy...and jerky..." His voice lowered, his increasingly worried laughter drowning out his ability to speak.

He wondered what Pelea would put on his epitaph.

 

[Taigakitt]

Freya Hamrammr​

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."​

There was a chorus that seemed to erupt, but she hadn't seen the cause. The words told enough. Someone got their face broken. Shame she didn't get to see.

Freya gratefully took the new drink Bjorn ordered for her, taking a gulp out of the mug. Of course, his thoughts aligned with what she thought he was going to say. As for her, she hadn't run across any facts about it, so she still felt it was completely a fairy tale- nothing concrete. But like he had said, it'll be a fun adventure and they'll find something for the grandchildren for sure.

As she opened her mouth to respond, a voice beside her took her attention away from what she was going to say. A particular statement of theirs caught her attention, and she'd be damned if she didn't ask. After introductions. She stroked her thumb across the side of Bjorn's hand that gently rested on her's as a response to his touch. "Aye, doesn't matter where we go, we'll find something for them." She doubted that someone would reveal anything they found about the well, but it doesn't hurt to try. She smiled, "What evidence have you chanced upon?"

Mentions: EldridSmith Jet ​

 

[Pik]

Lorrin Yumi

Taigakitt
"I don't think you're being selfish at all its only right that you alone decide where you want to be in life." He took another bite out of his salad looking lost in thought. When was the last time he visited his family it had been what four three years, the time has seemed to fly since the night young archer left home to make a name for himself outside of being some sort of magical prodigy. His sibling had out making new magical discoveries and here he is crawling through the mud just have some sort of small fame. It must be nice just being able too magic your way into success. He looked back into the crowd of people around them apparently a quest was being set up for the wishing well. "Another hut for that fairy tale."
​

 

[The Regal Rper]

Vaal of Jata​

One, two, three, toss them up- beyond what the eyes see. Four, five, six- watch them fly- soar on by, glinting by the light. Seven, eight, nine- one foot down, other up- catch them one-by-one. Juggling the knives like a jester of the court juggled balls, the blue-skinned six footer caught every knife by the handle and continued his juggling as he stood in his little spot, surrounded by other dart throwers.

"How much you bet he misses em?" Said a voice to his right.

"He's juggling nine knives on one foot Gilrik. He'll miss at least more than three. 40 Silver."

"Weak." Said a female just at the corner of his perception. "130 silver coins." Said the older woman with the nasty scar going from right eyebrow to the left of her jaw. Turning a grey strand over a bitten ear. "He'll miss one."

"I'm with the old hag over there Damian."

Chuckling as said old hag launched an empty glass at the head of her companion sitting on the other table across from her before a fight between companions could start the stranger chipped in. "I suppose we will find out," said the juggler, mirth in his voice even if his face couldn't be seen. With a hop and a switch from one leg to the next, the masked blue stranger threw each knife with successive flicks of the wrist. Each and every blade went soaring, one after the other, and each and every blade hit something. Thunk. THUNK! THUNK! The sound rang as metal met wood and in just a few seconds, 7 blades had found themselves embedded in the cleared darting board, while two clanged loudly as they hit the polished floors.

Swearing, chuckling, and snickering was all the blue heard all around. "Looks like I missed two." He politely muttered.

"Surprised ya didn't miss any at all!" Chimed the older fellow. "Where ye learn to throw like that?"

"Practice," a touch of calm in the masked blue's voice as he chuckled. "Thank you for letting me participate in the game earlier," the masked blue nodded to the group.

"BAH," swatted the older woman's hand as she grabbed her other mug and downed half her ale in one go. "Think nothing of it boy! Tis nice to unwind and have a relaxing time with decent strangers for once, oh" she said squinting at the two idiots across her, "and friends." The comment done with a roll of her eyes. "You say you've been around the Lodge before?"

"Myrtle, the grump over here and I frequent this place every couple of months." Said Gilrik, the blonde older man shaking the bag of coins and shooting his companion, an older brunette shooting him the stink eye a wry grin. "Never seen someone of your lot here before lad. You sure ya around frum here?"

"Not quite," the masked blue responded. "My people don't originate from the lands in Centos or the South, but I have been here for more than a year. Looking for work, discovering more than what home had to offer." He stated.

Myrtle laughed. "Young and adventurous I see. So much youth these days off to make it big and score some wealth by journeying away from home. Or should I say, fleeing away from home?" Myrtle prodded, poking the younger strange blue fellow with her now empty keg.

"Fleeing? No. More like- self-exiled. It's nothing to worry about anymore though. What of you three? You say you travel a lot?"

"To the West. Bodyguards." Damian stated. "We work for a particularly wealthy family of merchants. Actually got our--"

"AAAAAAAH," Myrtle interrupted with a walk over and a swat to the back of the head. "Enough backstory talk, none of that! We drink, we laugh, fun! Boy, ye've yet to tell us your name. They got manners where you're from?"

"Apologies," the masked blue bowed his head. "My name is--"

Tables, a chair, someone shouting- another body dropping. The distinct sound of skin on skin contact- the pop of a jaw, the scent of blood. The masked blue snapped his eye holes in the direction of the sound where the death of silence now clutched all by the throat and the lumbering of heavy steps filled the lodge's floors with every squeak and creak. Swearing and insults came as he craned his neck upwards to get a better view- and the brief hint of blue, and a vaguely familiar face- someone that entered earlier but was unimportant enough to have completely forgotten was lifted by the very same person whose table the buffoon had crashed into- and then promptly delivered to by the hands of the lodge's escort committee.

Cackling like a giddy girl, Myrtle slapped her knee with a beefy hand and rubbed her eye with the other. "Ah, young blood. It's idiots like these that make me glad I'm not as young n hotheaded as I once was in youth."

"You were young?"

Another glass went flying, this time for Damian's head.

Laughing with Gilrik as Myrtle moved in to headlock the mouthy bloke, the blue looked overhead to hear the cheers and stamps regarding the bets towards that fight from before. While he'd put in only a few bits, his interest wasn't much. He'd simply added just a few coins- whatever information he'd hear was sure to pass through the mouth of the losing side or most definitely, the winning. "Vaaltari is my name." Vaal informed Gilrik. "Pleasure." He offered his hand, and with a grin Gilrik shook it.

"Pleasure's mine if I can sneak some coin from my idiot of a brother."

The Eastern shook his head, patting Gilrik on the shoulder with a twinkle in those square pupils behind the eyeholes that showed a sign of mirth. "I'm off to get some drinks. I'll be back later if you're still around. And I'll be sure to send some drinks your way."

"Aye, aye!" Gilrik chuckled, turning his attention back to his companions. "OI! Quit it you two, sis, you're gonna kill him!"

"Exactly-" Myrtle grunted, "what I'm hoppin for!"

"URH!"

"I'll be sure to send some water Damian's way." Vaaltari informed as walked away.

--------​

"Ka suzubuki. Thank you." He informed the miss. "Yes them." He pointed towards the three siblings. And with that, the deed was done.

It was nice to meet folk and just talk over games. Been a while since he could last recall doing that, what with work always needing to be done. At least, coming to this lodge- a place he usually avoided since it had been the point of his entry into Centos' lands, was a lot better than he thought. One year of moving from place to place tended to do that though and he was at least glad to have better memories coming back compared to the first arrival.

Vaaltari swirled his drink, and lifting the mask downed its contents. Rising- he decided to just have a stroll through the lodge. Couldn't hurt, and if it did, well that's what politeness was for. Not like he wanted to get kicked out of the lodge- hadn't been kicked out of a single one before, and he had no plans on starting such a streak, image, or ruining of reputation now.

After all, Matugna of his blood had a reputation to maintain.

Passing a man, and one rather large female and male- his hearing caught word of the conversation of a well. That well, but he brushed it off. Babble. Chatter. Nothing of real importance. Talk and nothing more, he dismissed it- but not them. Humans of such large sizes were still such a mystery to him and he couldn't help but stare at them as he passed only to swift turn his head and move on. He moved on his bare feet, eye holes watching through the glass; catching sight of a young man and some sort of creature. Vague- he couldn't quite recall what her kind was called. Scales, horns were what he made out in the distance and through the clutter, he circled around a table, passing by behind the man and the miss as he went by them. In the corner of his eye he checked the miss' behind and saw no tail.

Ah yes, now he remembered. Lizard people. Probably not the right term, but it hardly mattered. Not like he would be talking to them- nor did he have an interest in doing so. The first trip to the West had been a disaster and had ended in his band getting attacked by those very sort of folk on a mission. Lost two in his unit and it was a memory he had no interest in bringing back up. As fine as she appeared the scales flashed the memory of his own dying by blade-- wordless, he moved on. And that's when he saw them.

People of feathers, claws, and wings. The first time he had seen them- the first time he had ever seen a Quetzola he could not help but think of how they reminded him of the creatures that his people had fought for decades upon decades since the change in fauna and flora during the Great Collapse. Worst of all the one that had hired him had been one of those very same creatures, in which the very creature had educated him on the name of its kind. Such unique beings lived here in Centos and it never ceased to amaze him how some could both attract his attention, yet also trigger such a deep and complex feeling of distaste.

It seemed like the male was in trouble. "Can't have that." He muttered. And so off he went towards the two, waving his hand at the rather large fellow the male had crossed.

Mentions: EldridSmith Taigakitt Jet

Interactions:: Arcanist OrWangatan RedLeftHand36

 

[Taigakitt]

Yo Saiwa​

A gentle smile appeared upon her lips at Lorrin's words. It definitely helped calm her nerves a little. Her eyes flickered to where she had seen the helmeted man smash someone's face, now seeing a feathered being looking up at him. Although she was kind of curious about everything surrounding her, right now she was in Lorrin's company.

Adjusting her golden gaze back on Lorrin, she questioned, "Well, enough about me. What made you want to travel to the West? Or, be an adventurer?" Granted they could have talked during their cruise... and she was sure they had... but that ship was hell, and some information just didn't stick.

She heard words of the fairy tale being thrown around by a few of the patrons surrounding them- even Lorrin commented on it. Her eyes sparkled. She couldn't help that she was still curious, "Do you think someone found truth for it?" After all, why would a fairy tale be hyped up right now?

Mentions: Pik ​

 

[RedLeftHand36]

Sir Erik the Tall

The noise was nothing short of annoying. No. Annoying wasn't strong enough of a word to describe it. But he was already at the bar. No point in changing his mind, now. Having lowered the hinge of his bevor, the very moment his bounty of pitchers filled with ale, he greedily attacked them with his thirst for drowning out the cacophonous and wretched atmosphere filled to the brim with tumult. He had no love for such raucous mirth. He far more enjoyed the intimacy of quietness. Even the rush of blood during battle wasn't as enjoyable as a simple moment of peace and quiet. If it weren't for the more limited amounts of food and drink, Erik would spend far more time beside his campfires as opposed to any tavern or lodge. Of course, he'd still be frequent at the many brothels and red light districts that dotted Centos in admirable numbers. Erik was at a point where he likely knew each and every worker of those kinds of places on a first name basis.

SPLASH

The scent of spilled ale leaked through the spaces between his armor and soaked into his gambeson. More than half the entire pitcher, wasted, brought Erik back from the depths of his mind. A fucking waste. He exhaled deeply and sharply, the sound of a seemingly defeated breath only amplified so closely surrounded by armor. The towering man teetered as he looked about him, but the sound of a trembling voice offered the culprit right to him. A young man... a... bird? Erik couldn't say he'd seen too many bird people around before. The lad, small as he was, only looked smaller as Erik noted the fear behind the apologetic smile. What a meek little bird, indeed. There was no malice there. No, he doubted the boy had the guts to even think to do so. Thus, Erik decided to offer the most severe punishment he could give to such a creature. The knight lifted his hand, and gently, but swiftly brought it down on the lad's head. It was little more than a heavy tap, though Erik's fist was about the size of the little bird's entire head. Turning back to what remained in the single pitcher, the larger fellow grunted and spoke in a voice like the grinding of stone against stone, thunderous, deep, and powerful enough to vibrate the very senses, even among the noise of the crowd.

"Keep an eye out, next time, lad. I've only so much ale t' spare."

Lovely. No doubt this would attract more attention than Erik would welcome. The particularly over-mirthful throng pitching in a song to the farewell of the blonde piss-ant certainly didn't help him feel comfortable, and who knows how many more piss-ants there were in the crowd. Honestly, he was surprised he hadn't already bumped into some little gobshite trying to once again prove "size doesn't matter". Nothing ruined his mood more than someone with a height complex. But of course, there was always someone, wasn't there. Here was a sight. Some masked fellow, with blue pigments decorating his skin, no less. He wasn't exactly sure what in the infernal pit that thing was, but it waved at him. Huh. Another type yet to be reviewed. But he didn't know this fella. Nor did he want to. Simply, he offered a dismissive wanking gesture, pumping a fist towards his waist and off into the air. His way of telling people to fuck off. He wasn't sure if the blue-skinned person would get the message, but he frankly didn't care.